Chicks dig it

March 27, 2005

J's World/Jeremiah Bartz

As a new father to a 7-week-old little girl, there are many things I am still learning.

I am still learning that if my daughter Alyson has a diaper that needs to be changed - even if Oklahoma State is leading Arizona by just one with less than a minute left of a Sweet 16 game - she still has a diaper that needs to be changed.

I am still learning that if Alyson wakes hungry at 4 a.m. - even if I stayed up until 2 a.m. playing poker on the Internet - Alyson is still hungry.

I am still learning it takes Alyson, her mom and I at least an hour to get ready, regardless of where we are going. We could be headed just a few minutes down the road to Fred Meyer, or we could be preparing for a week-long trip to Nigeria, and I think it would take the same amount of time.

And I am still learning, regardless of how much shopping we need to do, it takes hours to get through a store like Fred Meyer.

Why?

Because everyone seems to want to catch a glimpse of the new baby.

While it is taking me more than seven weeks to learn many of fatherhood's lessons, I figured out very quick babies are people magnets. More specifically - chick magnets.

In just the dozen times or so we have taken Alyson out to the grocery or department stores, we have spent about half her life talking to complete strangers about our new baby. During lunch the other day, we had a 20 minute conversation with a complete stranger about Alyson. I am not sure if I have talked about babies for that long with some of my closest friends. There must be a tractor beam that draws every woman of child-bearing age within 200 yards of Alyson right to her stroller. If I only new this during my 'desperately seeking a date days' in college. I should have just grabbed a nearby baby and wheeled down the health and beauty section of the grocery store.

Would have been like shooting fish in a barrel, because chicks dig babies.

I have a very good friend who is perpetually single. Even though he has the high five-figure salary, the Alaska pimp wagon (otherwise known as a late model loaded GMC truck) a nice apartment, surprisingly clean for a bachelor, and some of those good personality things woman may be looking for, he is still waiting for Ms. Right, or at least Ms. Right Now. I was thinking I should rent him Alyson for a few hours, have him wheel her down the aisles of Fred Meyer and see what he can catch.

You never know, it may work. I always try to help a brotha' out.

But as he is walking through the aisles of the store on a solo mission, I'm learning new ways to say, "Well we better get going here," which translates in Jayaneese to, "Dude, the Sweet 16 games started like 20 minutes ago, I gotta get out of here."

This is part two of Frontiersman sports editor Jeremiah Bartz's now life long series, "A sports guy's guide to fatherhood." Any publishing company that thinks this may be a bestseller is asked to call 352-2273.